


Submission

by AnonMadSci



Category: Bleach
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Blood Play, Breathplay, Cannibalism?, Canon-Typical Violence, Dom/sub Undertones, Don't try this at home kids, Dubious Consent, Enemies to Lovers, Enemies to friends?, Frottage, Hollows (Bleach), I promise, It's a hollow eat hollow world, Kinda?, Kurosaki is NOT nice, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Not Beta Read, Oral Sex, Past Rape/Non-con, Rough Sex, Vasto Lorde Kurosaki Ichigo, magic healing cock, there's a happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:27:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26922859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonMadSci/pseuds/AnonMadSci
Summary: Next to his ear something splintered with a sharp little crack. Grimmjow's eyes flew open; his legs tightened.The Vasto Lorde made a sound that wasn't a growl, some kind of breathy, throaty... noise. Caging Grimmjow's hips in clawed hands, he lifted them until Grimmjow was on his shoulder blades, angled them up, thrust down like he was trying to hammer Grimmjow into the dune. Grimmjow gasped, the breath driven out of him."Aw, shit--"Inspired by Yield By Asuka Kureru“What if, instead of Ichigo reverting at the end, Grimmjow got stuck with a feral newborn Vasto Lorde for like a month?”
Relationships: Grimmjow Jaegerjaques/Kurosaki Ichigo
Comments: 75
Kudos: 386





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [Yield](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17421326) By [Asuka Kueru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Askerian/pseuds/Asuka%20Kureru)
> 
> This is a finished fic with four chapters that I will be updating every friday! Depending on reader response, I may or may not be willing to add an epilogue ~~or a sequal~~. 
> 
> I picture Vasto lorde Ichigo like this:  
> 

His instincts jerked him awake with the realization of another threat closing in fast. A shitty Adjuchas at a level that he’d normally laugh and kill before the hollow even realized it’s mistake, but he was still pathetically weak. And sore. And where the fuck was he? _Focus!_ No easy place to hide, he should be able to outrun it still. 

Claws on the back of his neck, dangerously close to his spine froze him in place with a shiver. Kurosaki-, no, the Vasto Lorde that he became. _Fuck!_ He could laugh. 

Bait. It was using him as fuckin’ bait. The piece of shit was so far beneath its power level, the Adjuchas couldn’t even _sense_ it. 

It roared as it barreled toward them, but still, Kurosaki held him captive. Just stepped forward once, putting himself between the Adjuchas and Grimmjow - just like with Nnoitra, with Yammy - and he didn’t even lift his sword. He stopped it’s rampage with a single bare hand and crushed it’s mask before it could even pull away. Grimmjow shivered again as the needle-sharp claws released his neck.

Turning to face the Vasto Lorde, Grimmjow started slowly backing up. He needed to regain his strength, even this snack would help. It didn’t kill him. Watching him with cold gold on black eyes, but unmoving. 

Grimmjow tore into the dead hollow, ravenous, and not having a single fuck to give about dignity and pride at this point. 

Once he’d glutted himself, he licked off the spattered blood from his messy feed and considered Kurosaki once again. He’d not moved at all while Grimmjow ate, staring at him. Perhaps it’d let him go? Grimmjow started to slowly back away, meeting gold on black unblinkingly. The moment he’d stepped past the slowly dissipating carcass pissed off reitsu slammed down, sending him to his knees even with the bit of strength regained from his meal.

Spots swam in his vision as he struggled to breathe under the weight of it and he couldn’t help the soft whine from escaping. The reitsu slowly let up and Grimmjow found himself almost faceplanting in the white sands, sucking in a harsh breath. Okay, bad idea. 

“So what now? Kurosaki,” Grimmjow growled out, fists clenching in the sand at his own weakness. He pushed himself to his feet. “You’re not gonna eat me. You’re not gonna destroy me. You’re not gonna let me go. So what now?!” He stomped closer with each word until he was before the Vasto Lorde, looking down into his eyes with a snarl on his face. Watching as those cold gold eyes dropped down to his freshly healed neck, bite marks closing up under the intake of reishi his meal provided. His lung too. Grimmjow could feel a fraction of his power slowly returning. Not that it was enough. 

He didn’t understand the weight of the gaze on him until it dropped further. Down to the dried trail of blood and come that ran down his thighs. 

The hunger in those eyes. No! Grimmjow retreated a step before he even realized it, his own eyes widening. He was caught before he even saw Kurosaki move. It’s hand buried in his hair and he gasped as his head was pulled back to expose his neck again. The Vasto Lorde was a mere breath away, head angled up to keep from stabbing him with those forward-facing horns, body hot against his. 

“Damnit Kurosaki! Can’t you get your rocks off somewhere else? Eat shit like a normal hollow?” He complained, ignoring the waver in his voice and the shiver at the half-hard interest against his thigh. 

There was no answer, not vocally at least. The grip in his hair tightened almost painfully and those sharp teeth drew nearer. Reminding him he was the first thing on the menu.

“You asshole,” He grit his teeth, going lax against him. 

Kurosaki pulled at his hair and he went easily, tilting his head and jolting as the teeth bit into him, drawing blood and a hissed breath. Grimmjow pushed uselessly against the solid mass before him. Lesson learned about striking. It’d just pissed it off before. He flinched when a hand went to his ass, gripping and spreading him. Then he was released as suddenly as he was caught, stumbling forward. The Vasto Lorde was at his back, pulling his ass flush against its hips and rutting his flushed cock between his ass cheeks. Grimmjow was still open from last time, still slick from the remnants of the last coupling. 

Claws punctured effortlessly through his skin, entirely unintentionally for all the care Kurosaki took in spreading his cheeks again, in slowly pulling him back against the cock. There was no room to resist. No way to mitigate that strength. Nothing to do except throw his head back and moan as the cock pushed past the meager resistance and speared him with ease. Inch by slow inch, filling him. 

Without the pain of his wounds, the pain of the unprepared entrance, he couldn’t help but feel his cock twitch in interest, in the pleasure that came at the easy penetration. 

“Fuck!” He gasped as Kurosaki sheathed himself entirely in a hard thrust. And then another, fucking him effortlessly, punching the breath from him in sharp gasps. His entire body rocked from the force of them. 

The sand shifted beneath him and Grimmjow lost his balance. Instead of holding him up, the Vasto Lorde went with him, bearing them both to the white sands and continuing as though nothing happened. “Shit,” He hissed through gritted teeth, arms in front of him, bracing himself against the sands. “Tryin’ to bury me or somethin’ Kurosaki?” He bitched just for the heck of it. 

It was easy to lose himself to the feeling of it. Kurosaki hot against his back, the thick cock pushing against his insides, rubbing over his prostate and sending little zings of pleasure up his spine and rebounding to his cock. It’d be easy just to reach down, to take his own pleasure from this, but he was so tired. His spiritual energy was still so depleted and with his belly full of the Adjuchas reitsu to absorb and convert to replenish his own. He lost time.

“Ah!” The Vasto Lorde pulled him upright by his hair. Clawed fingertips drawing thin weeping lines from his belly up his center to grip his neck, forcing his back to arch almost painfully. Ass pressed tight to those hips as Kurosaki fucked himself deep, burying himself to the root before pulling out almost entirely. He seemed to be amusing himself by punching out the little noises, the gasps, and moans. Careful fingertips smeared the blood on his stomach, startling Grimmjow as it went lower. He jerked against the hold on his neck, scratching at the wrists ineffectively, trying to get those claws away from his cock. 

Smooth fingerpads trailed lightly over his cock. The faint exploring pressure completely opposite to what he expected. It didn’t last long before the Vasto Lorde’s hand wrapped completely around his cock, grip firm and claws held carefully away. The heavy thrusts slowed to a constant grinding as it focused on it’s exploring, drawing shuddering moans. _Fuck_ he forgot how fast Kurosaki picked up on things. It was ridiculously easy for him to turn Grimmjow into a shivering panting mess, rocking his hips into the hot grip and gasping at how it also had the heavy cock inside him pressing against his inner walls. Sending zings of electric pleasure up his spine. 

“Haaah shit.” Grimmjow huffed. Now, this wasn’t half bad. 

All too soon, the Vasto Lorde pulled away to resume taking his pleasure. Pulling out slowly before slamming himself home. Hot inside him, hot at his back, hot hands at his neck and roaming, the prick of claws roaming over his front, over his thighs, hot breath on his shoulder. He didn’t even flinch this time when the sharp teeth sunk into his shoulder. Inhumanly long tongue sweeping over them before biting again, leaving overlapping marks once again. _Oh._

“Didn’t like that your marks healed up, did you?” He was pleased with how he’d managed to keep his voice relatively straight. Grimmjow didn’t like what that meant, what it implied. On one hand, it boded well for his survival. On the other-... “I’m not your damn sex toy!” He growled, mildly annoyed at how he was ignored. Or not, the grip on his throat growing tighter, claws pricking the thin skin there and on his hip where the Vasto Lorde was using the bone arch of it to pull Grimmjow back against his thrusts. 

Grimmjow let his head fall back, bearing it more the Vasto Lorde’s mercy as it seemed to like. Immediately there was a pleased rumble at his back, teeth running over his skin but not piercing. He hadn’t realized how much his cock was leaking until Kurosaki’s hand left his hip and smeared it, creating a tight slick grip. Grimmjow shuddered, unable to help the moans torn from his throat. Kurosaki moved with the same single-minded determination that he gave everything, except this time his attention was solely on him! “Fuck!” Grimmjow gasped, struggling against the hold, but he was as captive like this as he had been with Kurosaki’s weight above him, pinning him to the sands. His orgasm crashed through him like a trainwreck. Kurosaki didn’t stop. Wringing out everything he had until he was struggling anew, sweating and gasping wetly in sounds too suspiciously close to sobs for his own comfort. Still, he didn’t stop. Not even when Grimmjow went limp, pliant against the muscular girth. Weak sounds escaping with each body rocking thrust.

He knew now what it felt like when Kurosaki was close, like at this moment. Fucking faster, staying deep, hot puffs of breath from open jaws against his cheek contrasting with the cool lifelessness of the hollows mask. _Crack!_ He flinched at the sound of something splintering close to his ear.

 _Again_ , Grimmjow thought hazily, _wha-?_ The Vasto Lorde bit down on the crook of his neck, distracting him from that thought as teeth sunk deep and drew a hoarse cry. At the same time, Kurosaki growled fiercely as he shoved his cock as deeply as he could, holding him tightly. Grimmjow could feel him swelling inside, twitching as it throbbed and spurted liquid heat. 

“Gotta make a mess of me every damn time, do ya?” He sighed, waiting to finally be released. “And I would like to _breathe_.” He complained, patting the fingers still around his neck. There was a low contented growl, more of a purr really, and then the teeth were removed and its tongue soothed the weeping wounds they left. Kurosaki didn’t bite his tongue to heal them, something that Grimmjow was rapidly becoming used to. 

Like last time, Kurosaki was loathe to fully separate, but he was much more confident about his survival this time. Even if it was as the Vasto Lorde’s piece of tail. The fingers slowly let him go and he rubbed at his neck disgruntledly but didn’t do anything save for lean back against the solid body and sigh. “Now I’m hungry again. If you could just find me something and a place to den up, that’d be great. I could sleep for a _week._ ” He murmured, the toll of the day catching up to him again. Grimmjow was determined not to pass out again like some weak little bitch. He was better than that. He was a fuckin’ _Espada_ after all.

He’d do it himself. Hunt down some pissant Adjuchas and consume them, except being around Kurosaki’s massive reitsu was like a bonfire ruining night vision, drowning out the smaller flickering reitsu signatures of those not smart enough to sense the Vasto Lorde and get the fuck away. Or too weak to sense him at all like before. Hell, with Aizen having gathered the most powerful ones he could find, he probably didn’t even need pa- 

_  
__Wait. Pantera!_ Grimmjow startled out of thought, away from the Vasto Lorde. _Where was his sword?!_ He was allowed to go, he knows, but all the same, he couldn’t be bothered by it until he found his sword impaled in the sand next to Kurosaki’s back where they’d originally been and had its sheath and grip in hand. His power was sealed into this sword, it was a part of his soul just like his mask fragment at this point. Something Kurosaki retained or at least knew instinctively if he’d picked it up after Grimmjow blacked out. 

Grimmjow looked over at Kurosaki, the Vasto Lorde standing closeby, carefully watching his reactions as he slowly reached for the hilt of Zangetsu. His fingers brushed the black sheathless sword and yet, the hollow merely cocked his head as if curious as to what his intentions were. Not nearly as threatened as he should be. He might be drained and weak at the moment but that was no excuse! He growled before gripping it and pulling it from the white sands before tossing it to Kurosaki. It was caught easily, without hesitation. The golden gaze lingering on it for a long moment before rising to meet him.

“C’mon, I wanna eat and I won’t have you getting pissy ‘cause I’m walking away so lead on.” He ordered as if he had any say in the matter. So what if it was pretending, he’d just have to get stronger until he could beat Kurosaki. And he’d ignore the amusement in those cold golden eyes until then too.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the lovely comments! I read and reread them all so many times this week and I will definitely respond to them tonight.
> 
> He's a grumpy kitty.  
> 

They ended up stumbling onto the still abandoned ruins of the colony Nnoitra had destroyed. The burrows and dens carved out of the cliffside, remnants of the civilization of the bitten. Those who were consumed were left with no hope of reaching the rank of Vasto Lorde, their desire to consume diminished enough to coexist.  _ Weaklings, _ Grimmjow snorted to himself. Kurosaki had abandoned him once they had come into view, looking off at something in the vague direction of Las Noches before running off so fast it looked like he disappeared to Grimmjow’s eyes. 

It was exactly what he wanted… wasn’t it? So why was he watching the direction of Kurosaki’s fast-fading reitsu and feeling something suspiciously like sinking disappointment.  _ No. _ Grimmjow shook his head and started scouring the abodes for something suitable. The upside of the desert of Hueco Mundo was that all the remnants the colony left behind had not had the conditions to rot. Leathers, blankets, some crude basic furniture, even some preserved food which Grimmjow was all too happy to take along with anything he deemed remotely useful. 

With the fall out of Nnoitra’s impatience and bloodlust, there were barely any suitable dens. Most just half caved in wrecks. And it took quite a bit of looking before he finally found one to his satisfaction. This one he could block up the entry easily enough and a nook to the side so even if something were to breach, he would have time to react before it noticed him. The nook was stuffed with the leathers and blankets, even his useless remaining jacket before he curled up within and finally relaxed into slumber. 

He slept for a long time. Grimmjow was barely conscious when he rose from the depths of sleep just long enough to eat the few bites of preserved food. He came fully awake once to scrub the dried come and blood from his body with the sand, polishing the streaks away without so much as an abrasion with his reitsu finally recovered and feeding back into his Hierro. Another time when he’d run out of the scavenged preserved food, waking long enough to hunt and consume a few low-level hollows before creeping back to sleep while his body absorbed them.

When he next woke, the stuff he’d been using to block the entry was crushed aside and a figure in its place. It only took a split second to match reitsu and appearance, Grimmjow relaxed and scowled. Kurosaki didn’t even look his way. He was sitting on the cliffside mouth, one foot hanging off the edge and the other propped against the side of the entryway. An arm resting on his knee as he looked out onto the sands and the broken cliffs.

“And here I thought you’d fucked off, Kurosaki.” He grunted as he stretched. 

He found himself staring at the Vasto Lorde. Looking for some part of the shinigami kid he’d chosen as prey worthy of him. The Vasto Lorde turned his head, staring back unblinkingly. Golden eyes were unrecognizable to the soft warm ones he knew, the ones he hated. Those soft eyes that looked down on him and yet saved him from Nnoitra anyways. There was no recognition in them. Intelligence, yes. He was being watched and assessed in return, he was sure of it. But there was also more there than when he’d been held up waiting for a cero to blast him to bits. That empty rage of a newborn hollow gone. Come to think of it, it’d been lacking for that second time too. Already past what plagued the Espada, their Fraccion, all the rest of the lower level hollows for hundreds if not thousands of years in a mere day. This was the very thing Ulquiorra had tried to warn them all about. 

And then there was the fact his instincts hadn’t even woken him when Kurosaki arrived.  _ Hmm. _

Grimmjow grinned suddenly picking up his sword and kicking the leg out of the entryway and jumping out. “Did ya get addicted to my ass Kurosaki? If you want some tail then you’re gonna have to work for it.  _ Grind, Pantera. _ ” His sword dissipated away as his armor appeared and he stepped onto the sands in his Resurrección form. Black feline paws contrasted against the white of his bone armor and the cold sands. His hair fell past his waist and billowed in the breeze caused by the release of his reitsu, some strands falling over the mask fragment now at his forehead. His long razor-edged tail flicked out behind him lazily as he stared up at Kurosaki.

A small rational part of his mind called him crazy. The rest was dying to test himself on Kurosaki’s newfound strength.

The Vasto Lorde outstretched his hand and a heartbeat later, the black sword flew into it. Hollow white skin of his fingers curled over the black hilt. Jaws opening to let out a single sound. “ _ Heh.”  _ Feline ears twitched.

“Bastard!” Grimmjow launched himself at the Vasto Lorde, black claws outstretched. They struck the broad side of Zangetsu, Kurosaki meeting his attack equally. Power backlash shattered the other cliff. In hindsight, it’d probably not been a great idea to spar so close to where he’d denned up. But he couldn’t bring himself to care, grinning all the wider and baring all his sharp teeth as he used reitsu to solidify the air at his feet and push away in a limber backflip, putting some difference between them. 

Kurosaki closed it in an instant and Grimmjow could barely bring his arms up fast enough to block the downward slash that propelled him back into the dunes. The Vasto Lorde before him disappeared and reappeared a split second later beside him. Grimmjow’s eyes widened, instinctively twisting to face him only to bend backward to avoid the sweeping slash. Seeing his own reflection in the black sword for the briefest of moments before he retaliated. Twisting his body to slam his armored shin into the side of Kurosaki’s head. It wasn’t the bladed side. They weren’t fighting to the death. 

It was like he’d kicked a concrete wall as a human. To think this kind of attack had once sent Kurosaki through several buildings! Now he simply adjusted his balance, widening his stance as he grabbed Grimmjow’s foot above the black paw and swung him around, tossing him headfirst at the remnants of the cliff they’d destroyed moments earlier. But Grimmjow managed to flip himself midair, solidifying the air again as he slowed himself before launching right back at the Vasto Lorde. He’d never reached that level. He’d still been an adjuchas when Aizen had cracked his mask and given him a soul reapers sword. Thousands of adjuchas devoured. And he wasn’t good enough still. Grimmjow launched himself just past Kurosaki, not bothering to turn around and attack like the Vasto Lorde was expecting. As soon as he was past him, Grimmjow fired off all five Garra de la Pantera from his elbow behind him and leaping away from the destruction as they impacted and exploded. 

The sight of bubbling white of high-speed regeneration made him throw his head back and cackle. He could mark Kurosaki up. And if he healed, then he’d just have to do it again and again until it stayed. 

A low rumbling growl got his attention, but it was far from displeased. If anything, it seemed like the Vasto Lorde was enjoying himself as well.

“Well c’mon!” Grimmjow urged, baring his sharp teeth again. Sand went flying as they both pushed off, launching towards each other again. And again. And again. Colliding in attacks and parries that had dunes blown flat from the gust of the expended spiritual energies, ceros that turned the sands to glass only to shatter it with the force of his Garra de la Pantera or the blue streaks of his Desgarron. Or even the backlash of Kurosaki using Zangetsu to block his claws, to slash through the blue blades of his Desgarron. 

They kept fighting until he had nothing left. His resurrección faded. The remnants of his power sealing itself back into a sword, white armor changing back into his jacket and hakama. He barely kept himself from falling to his knees as his chest heaved to catch his breath. Made all the more difficult from the sporadic bouts of laughter wracking his frame. Kurosaki stood not too far away, sword lowered and head cocked at the odd behavior. Not that Grimmjow cared. No, not after how long had he waited for a good fight where he could go all out. His muscles trembled, blood sluicing down from over a dozen wounds though none of them fatal. Kurosaki stepped forward with a contented rumble, stabbing the sands with his sword and leaving it. The thrill of the challenging battle was slowly fading and leaving him sore but satisfied. Grimmjow hummed back unconsciously, watching the approach through half-lidded eyes. 

The Vasto Lorde was already biting his tongue as he closed the last few steps. The long thick thing sweeping over his bicep, the cut didn’t even sting as it bubbled up with Kurosaki’s shared regeneration. Tingly, warm, Grimmjow shivered under the attention. Kurosaki stepped closer, barely needing to use his size and power to maneuver Grimmjow as he pleased, backing him up until he was pushed onto a jutting boulder. All that remained of that second cliff. A strong arm holding him down as the Vasto Lorde systematically went over all of the wounds he’d given him. And Grimmjow let him, head rolling back to bare his throat. He was rewarded with a pleased rumble against his chest

It felt nice.

Kurosaki moved him now and then, tugging and pulling his pliant body how he liked until all the cuts and slashes faded under his ministrations. Grimmjow went easily each time, even when Kurosaki bullied himself between his legs. He could feel the Vasto Lorde’s arousal hot against his ass, separated by just the thin layer of cloth of his hakama. Not that it lasted before ripping sounds had him jerking upright, eyes flying open. 

“Damnit Kurosaki! I woulda taken ‘em off, you don’t need to rip ‘em off me every fuckin’ time!” He grouched, forcing a breath through his nose as pushed against the massive girth. Vague surprise lit up his features as Kurosaki tilted his head to the side, considering him before he backed up enough that Grimmjow could shimmy the remnants of the hakama off his hips, kicking it off. He didn’t need to do anything else. The moment he’d freed himself, Kurosaki had retaken his place with another pleased rumble. 

Grimmjow moaned at the feeling of the flushed thick cock sliding against his own. Kurosaki’s hand trailed over his chest, being mindful of his claws as his pecs were groped and squeezed, and he couldn’t help the hitch in his breath. It felt good, the hot rough hands on him. He let his head fall back again as Kurosaki leaned over him, a heavy furnace of heat against his belly, hot puffs of breath on his neck as the tongue ran over the healed bite marks. The deepest one was just a thin line of the raised scar while the rest were just on the verge of disappearing. Grimmjow knew what was going to happen, shifting his body and tilting his head to offer it. 

Kurosaki’s clawed fingers curled around his hips, lifting them to better align their cocks as he sank his teeth into Grimmjow. Arching beneath him, he scraped his nails down Kurosaki’s back, the bubbling white healing as soon as he made them. Without letting go of his shoulder, Kurosaki started rutting against him. Breathy little noises escaped him and he managed to get his hands between them, wrapping them both around themselves. He could feel more than hear the other’s pleasure, the rumbling vibrations. 

“Fuck.” Grimmjow wrapped his legs around Kurosaki’s waist, ankles crossed at the small of his back. His eyes drifted closed, just enjoying the sensations. The soft skin of the hard cock sliding against his, the tight grip around them steadily getting slicker, the hot inescapable bulk undulating above him, the nearly subaudible rumbling against his chest, even the teeth in his shoulder. Grimmjow’s breathing grew rougher, panting to catch his breath between breathy moans and soft gasps while Kurosaki was irritatingly unaffected. 

“Damnit Kurosaki,’’ He growled out, urging him faster. A hand leaving their cocks to grip against what he could, uncaring for the bubbling lines his nails were leaving wherever he scrabbled. 

Arching up against the hot heavy bulk, his legs tightened. The Vasto Lorde made a noise in his throat, not a growl. He was too preoccupied with the ever-rising pleasure to name it. It almost felt like he was suffocating, his thoughts a muzzy haze and the world shrinking to the tightly wound coil about to snap. 

The orgasm stole the capability for speech and thoughts completely. It stole his ability to breathe as his body seized. Kurosaki was as heedless of this as he was before, rutting against him regardless of the mess. 

Grimmjow drew in a shuddering breath only to let it out in a low keen as Kurosaki released his shoulder just to bite down again, and once more before lapping up the free-flowing blood. He huffed as Kurosaki finally stopped, letting him go limp against the boulder. Half lidded blue eyes watched the Vasto Lorde curiously as the long tongue swept through the mess on his stomach. The boulder allowed him to do it without goring Grimmjow through with those horns as long as he tilted it to the side. 

Grimmjow shivered at the feel of it - definitely wasn’t the sudden lack of heat from Kurosaki backing away - and let his head fall back again. His eyes drifted closed even as the tongue left his stomach. Hands on his thighs pushed them further apart, clawed fingertips trailing up the inside and drawing more shivers. Fuck yea Kusaki should want him. It wasn’t until the hot still hard cock pressed against his ass that he realized the Vasto Lorde’s intentions.

“Hey! No!” Grimmjow snapped, pushing back against Kurosaki. Like hell was he gonna let him ruin his ass again! “Wait, Kurosaki lemme use my mouth.” He offered the alternative. The golden gaze rose to him, head cocked and tongue running over his teeth as it seemed he considered. Grimmjow tentatively pushed, relieved when the Vasto Lorde let him, and slowly, reluctantly, sank to his knees. 

Kurosaki’s cock was right in front of his face. The same stark white stained red from how flushed the plump arousal was, a bead of clear pre-come at the tip. Grimmjow lapped at it, fingers wrapping around the girth to keep it where he wanted. He risked a glance up, breath hitching as he saw the sheer hunger, the sheer  _ want.  _ It struck straight to his instincts, whispered  _ you’re about to be devoured _ and Grimmjow shivered again. 

He didn’t break eye contact. He refused to submit and be prey. 

The extended tongue ran down the length of it, mouthing back up to the tip. He wrapped his lips around the leaking head, huffing a breath through his nose in amusement at Kurosaki’s impatient shift forward. Kurosaki filled his mouth quickly, heavy and hot on his tongue, lips stretching around the girth. Grimmjow pushed forward, relaxing his throat and pushing forward that last few inches, throat convulsing around it. A soft barely-there weight on his head startled him, pulling off the cock to look up.  _ Oh. _ It was Kurosaki’s hand. Alright then. 

It was easier to take fully a second time. Grimmjow focused more on keeping suction, laving his tongue on the underside. Kurosaki’s grip tightened, he could feel the pads of his fingers against his scalp. It felt good. 

It was easier to tell what Kurosaki liked by his hand than trying to read the Vasto Lorde’s mask or even his eyes. Every time his throat convulsed around the cock, whether he choked or purposefully swallowed, the grip tightened, holding him there. Every time his tongue swept over the sensitive cockhead, it twitched as if Kurosaki wanted to pull him back on his cock, to sink himself deep. But the Vasto Lorde’s body was completely still, golden eyes still starving. 

“You wanna fuck my face Kurosaki?” Grimmjow rasped, grinning up at him as he placed open mouth kisses along the length. The grip in his hair tightened, pulling his head back. Grimmjow gasped, wincing at the suddenness before grinning again as both hands came to cup his face, claws making the tiniest cuts even through his Hierro. “Yeah, you do. C’mon Kurosaki.”

A thumb slid across his cheek, across his lips and he opened up at the slight touch. The pressure moved to his tongue, wordlessly ordering him to open wider. And Grimmjow did, eyes never leaving the Vasto Lorde. The heavy cockhead settled where the thumb was, golden eyes flickering between watching his cock slowly disappear into him and holding his gaze. Kurosaki didn’t stop until his nose was in the ridiculous orange pubes, his throat convulsing around it as he was held there. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t so much as twitch with the hands on his jaws, trapped by the golden gaze. 

He sucked in a harsh breath as soon as he was released enough to do so, glad for it when Kurosaki started fucking his throat as relentlessly as he’d had his ass. Sharp punctuated thrusts, holding himself deep for another moment before pulling entirely out. Kurosaki seemed to enjoy the strings of spit connecting his cock to Grimmjow, smearing them along his lips with the tip. He seemed to especially enjoy when Grimmjow choked and gagged around it, unshed tears burning his eyes. Coughing, the hot slick cock slid across his mask-free cheek, leaving a wet trail of spit and precome. He was allowed to clear his throat and inhale sharply before Kurosaki pulled at him. 

“So impatient! What? Are you getting close?” He gave a rough bark of a laugh, voice like gravel, grinning widely enough that the Vasto Lorde could see the sharpness of his teeth as the cock smeared against his cheek again. Grimmjow turned his head to mouth at it. He ignored the soft little growl of irritation from above as he mouthed at it, catching his breath before he wrapped his lips around the cock again. Kurosaki pushed forward with a punishing thrust, the thick heavy cock forcing his throat to give way. Grimmjow’s face pressed against the flat planes of his lower belly, nose deep in those pubes as Kurosaki used him. He wasn’t even allowing Grimmjow to move really, just holding his face still while he seemed to try his damndest to fuck without pulling out more than halfway. 

As he suspected, there wasn’t even time to pull in a quick breath before Kurosaki was burying himself back in his throat. And all he could do was shut his eyes and take it like a bitch, wet falling down his cheeks, whimpering noises drawing breathy little sounds above him.

One of Kurosaki’s hands slipped, grip catching again at his throat and Kurosaki froze mid-thrust, still deep inside him. Blue eyes opened and blinked the blurriness away, clearing a tear that fell to well-used tracks, confused at the sudden stop before understanding dawned in them.  _ Feeling his own cock,  _ Grimmjow realized before Kurosaki’s other hand grabbed a fistful of his hair and forced his head back, hammering into him and somehow managing to sink a bit deeper, stretching out a new part of his throat. 

The inhumanly long tongue was curling over serrated teeth, a hand in blue hair keeping him captive while the one along his throat got to feel it bulging with the thrusts. Grimmjow’s own hands drew bubbling lines as he clawed at Kurosaki’s hips, his eyes squeezing shut again. He vaguely wondered if this had been worth not getting his ass wrecked. But then Kurosaki held him still, the cock in his throat swelling, starting to throb. It was almost over.

A sudden crack, like the shattering of ice, had eyes startling open again. And this time, he could actually see the cause. A long but thin line connected two other thinner lines along the side of the Vasto Lorde’s mask. But like the previous times, Grimmjow wasn’t given any more time to consider what that meant.

The hand in his hair tightened and Grimmjow grimaced as the cock tore itself from his throat, hot spatters of come landing on his face. Over his eyes, his cheeks, another spurt coating his still open lips before Kurosaki pulled him back onto his still pulsing cock and he had to swallow to not choke on the reitsu and seed Kurosaki was still spurting. Holding him there, forcing him to take it even as Grimmjow struggled and thrashed in the unbreakable grip.

He was only released when Kurosaki’s cock had stopped even twitching, nearly entirely soft when it pulled out and Grimmjow gasped a desperate lungful of air.

  
“You fucker.” Grimmjow rasped, eyes still closed as he half lifted a hand - When had his hands fallen to his sides? - to try and wipe them clear. But his wrist was caught before he could. “Hey!” He protested, a weak rough snarl before flinching as something hot and wet touched his cheek instead. Not the cock. Kurosaki’s tongue? He relaxed as Kurosaki _licked_ clean the mess he’d made of him, enjoying the contented rumbling coming from the Vasto Lorde. 

Hands on his face had him opening his eyes in confusion, Kurosaki’s face barely a few inches away and he flinched at the unexpected closeness. “Wha-?” He opened his mouth to ask before the tongue took advantage of it and entered, licking inside his mouth. He flushed and stared through half-lidded eyes as Kurosaki got even closer. The tongue following the same path as his cock, tasting the remnants of his release. And then withdrew as unexpectedly as it’d entered, the heat of Kurosaki’s body disappearing and leaving him to shiver. 

With a growl, he pulled off his jacket. Grimmjow wiped the rest of the Vasto Lorde come and spit from his face with his it and discarded it. Glancing up as Kurosaki pushed into his personal space again, he was picked up without warning, swearing up at the Vasto Lorde as he was set back down against the boulder. Grimmjow blinked, confused as he watched the other. 

Kurosaki wasn’t looking at his face, but lower, at his half-hard cock rather. “Mmm?” He questioned as Kurosaki eyed him. It wasn’t until the Vasto Lorde bent down, horns carefully off to the side, and wrapped his tongue around the tip of his cock that Grimmjow understood.  _ Returning the favor, _ crazed laughter bubbled from his lips as he grabbed a horn and pulled Kurosaki up. 

“No offense, Kurosaki, but I really don’t want those teeth anywhere near my cock.” He was soft just thinkin’ about it. Kurosaki tilted his head, “Tell ya what. You can try when you have lips again.” Grimmjow offered when it seemed Kurosaki was disappointed? What?

An Adjuchas hunting cry made Kurosaki pause.  _ Thank fuck,_ he didn’t have to deal with  _ feelings. _ “Ah good.  _ Dinner.”  _ Grimmjow grinned, standing up and grabbing Pantera. He eagerly awaited the charging hollow that thought it was getting prey. All it took was a single slash of his sword to bring it down. Grimmjow tore into it before it’d even died properly. A last shuddery breath coming after he’d consumed a few decent mouthfuls. 

Kurosaki’s attention left him, focused off towards Las Noches again. Come to think of it, he’d expected  _ somebody  _ to come after him. But besides Yammy, there’d been nobody to even notice his absence. 

“If you wanna go, then  _ go. _ I don’t need some fuckin’ babysitter.” Grimmjow growled at him, carelessly tossing a bone at the Vasto Lorde. He caught it without even looking, golden eyes falling down on it as it dissipated in his hands before glancing over at Grimmjow, vaguely amused. And then he was gone. Moving almost faster than blue eyes could track, his form a blur before the dunes obscured him completely.

  
_ Fuckin’ Kurosaki_, Grimmjow scowled at the display of their power difference, returning to consuming the adjuchas’ power with more determination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will likely not be a sequel, but I'm definitely planning out an epilogue. As it stands now, the whole fic is at least 13k words total as I've added a bit more to the last chapter. 
> 
> Please tell me what you thought! I am most definitely motivated by positive feedback! ~~And motivation means long epilogue to wrap things up hehe~~
> 
> Remember that this is unbeta'd so unless it can be fixed in a few minutes, I don't want to hear about it. Thanks!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TLDR; Grimmjow gets fucked within an inch of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  The soft eyes he 'hates' so much lol

Kurosaki was there when he woke in the dark of his nest. The stuff blocking the doorway had been squished back into place and the Vasto Lorde was sitting with his back against the ledge of the nook, head lolled back against the leathers and blankets Grimmjow was using as cushioning against the stone.  _ Kurosaki was sleeping. _ He realized mutely, scarcely believing it. But no, there were the soft nearly soundless breaths and those gold on black eyes were closed. 

Grimmjow wavered between being pleasantly surprised and pissed that he wasn’t considered a threat. But a third thought quickly wormed its way into his mind.  _ I bet Kurosaki’s warm. _ Too bad there wasn’t enough room in the nook for them both. And yet, Grimmjow could scarcely believe he was considering it. And then he could scarcely believe he was doing it, grabbing the blankets and slowly, ever so fuckin’ slowly, leaving the nook and stepping closer to Kurosaki. 

“Try not to wake up and kill me. That’d just be the fuckin’ end I deserve for getting so soft.” He grouched, words barely audible. But Kurosaki didn’t. Not so far, not as he slowly lowered himself and the blankets at his back onto the Vasto Lorde. It was ridiculous how much bigger the teen was, how much more powerful. And yet he could only manage to bring himself to scoff as he slowly let Kurosaki take more and more of his weight until he was sprawled on top of him, face tucked neatly against his neck. 

He was right, Kurosaki  _ was _ warm. Hot and alive and trapping the heat were the blankets at his back. Grimmjow gave a pleased little sigh, all the suspicious tension leaving his body at the contented rumbling coming from beneath him. This was nice. Kurosaki’s arms wrapped around him and that was the last thing he remembered before drifting off again.

*  * * * *

Kurosaki’s stirring woke him again. A soft mewling complaint left him as he was shifted, refusing to even open his eyes. Kurosaki’s small huff of laughter drew a more appropriate growl response. The steadily growing familiar splintering noise had him jerking completely awake, wide blue eyes staring up at the mask. 

How did Kurosaki not even notice? How did he not hear it each time? The times he was getting off Grimmjow could kinda sorta understand, but this? Kurosaki hadn’t even flinched. Grimmjow reached up, hands going to the mask, wary and careful of the serrated teeth. But those golden eyes were calm, he’d even say amused. The mask had another hairline fracture in it, one he could barely feel under his thumb. 

“What the hell does this even mean?” He bitched even as his mind worked. He hadn’t noticed before but Kurosaki’s power level dropped. Not by much, he wouldn’t have thought to even check if he hadn’t known the connection between their hollow masks and their power. Aizen had shattered his mask and here he was ranked just below the only Vasto Lorde's in Hueco Mundo. Harribel, Ulquiorra, Barragan, Stark. Possibly Nnoitra though you could never trust that bastard. And here Kurosaki was, shattering his own damn mask. Somehow. But then, why the drop in power? 

“What the  _ fuck,  _ Kurosaki?” He groaned, giving up the train of thought. Something the Vasto Lorde beneath him agreed on since those hands went to his hips, rocking up against him. It was ridiculous how his body was already responding, trained in such a short time to get excited with Kurosaki’s heat against his body. Grimmjow huffed, reaching down to palm at the Vasto Lorde's erection. 

“Who woulda figured you for such a horny fucker. Can’t say I blame you though, I  _ am _ the best you’ve ever had.” He spoke, not expecting a response. Could Kurosaki even talk? 

The Vasto Lorde toppled him, teeth sinking into his shoulder. “Fuck!” His body a line of tension at the sudden pain, Kurosaki’s claws digging into his hips. Grimmjow scratched long lines up his back, growling as they healed over in bubbling white as soon as he’d made them. He’d leave his marks at some point! The cock rutted between his cheeks and he was glad he’d decided against putting clothes back on before crawling into his nook. The last thing he needed was them fully destroyed again when somebody finally came around. Teeth pulled free and the tongue smoothed over them, lapping up the blood that surged to the surface. 

Kurosaki turned him around, cock pressing against his hole before he could even protest. Grimmjow pushed his face into the blankets, muffling his own cries as the Vasto Lorde forced his way past the meager resistance and inside. 

“Damnit Kurosaki, that fuckin’  _ hurts, _ ” Grimmjow growled. He didn’t even have the weakness of blood loss like the first time relaxing him, his strength a downside as he instinctively tensed against the painful penetration. He couldn’t even offer much of a fight like this, nails biting into his own palm as he clenched his fists. 

Kurosaki reached for his cock, stilling in what he assumed was surprise when his hand closed around soft flesh instead. 

“No shit I’m soft, I said that fuckin’ hurts. Like hell I’d be anything but soft when you’re ripping me open like that!” Grimmjow snapped, glancing over his shoulder at the Vasto Lorde. Kurosaki considered him, golden eyes on him before he pulled away. The cock inside him hurt as much coming out as it had penetrating, but Kurosaki leaned down, hands spreading his asscheeks wide. 

Something tapered penetrated instead of the cock. Warm, wet, tingly, what? Grimmjow was confused at the sudden spike of pleasure, his cock twitching. He glanced back to see Kurosaki bite his tongue, blood running down the tongue only to be pushed deeper into his ass, opening him up. “Oh fuck.” Grimmjow moaned brokenly, resting his head on his forearms. The tongue was only thicker as it pushed deeper, wiggling, and pressing against his inner walls. Kurosaki’s hand squeezed his cock and he jerked, groaning when he reflexively clenched around the tongue. 

It wasn’t long before Kurosaki reduced him to panting whimpers between the firm grip on his cock and the tongue inside him. He could feel the teeth and mask against his ass, the horns scratching thin lines on his back through his Hierro. 

Grimmjow didn’t know how long Kurosaki teased him like that, it’s not as if he had anything to gauge the time with. Long enough that Kurosaki’s grip on his cock was slick with his own precome. Long enough that when that long tongue finally left him, he shivered at the sudden emptiness. Kurosaki’s claws made tiny cuts as he was turned over. Grimmjow wrapped his arms around broad shoulders as he was picked up like he was nothing, ankles crossing at Kurosaki’s lower back.  _ Was he gonna be fucked upright again? _ He shivered again at the thought. Kurosaki had something different in mind, however, walking them over to the wall and pressing Grimmjow against it hard enough the cliffside shuddered and little cracks appeared behind him. Not that he felt anything but mild pressure through his Hierro. 

Black clawed fingertips pulled his cheeks apart as Kurosaki’s cock pressed against his hole, sinking inside with a mere roll of those hips. Grimmjow's grip on Kurosaki’s shoulders tightened as the Vasto Lorde slowly sank deep. He couldn’t help the weak little moan at being filled so full, the heavy cock pressing against his insides. He was breathing hard already. His cock twitching between their stomachs. Kurosaki made a pleased throaty noise, face angled up as his horns rasped against the stone. 

He didn’t stop moving even when he’d finally seated himself fully inside, drawing almost entirely out before snapping his hips up, punching a moan from his throat. Grimmjow made more weak noises. He mewled and whimpered into Kurosaki’s ear, clinging onto the Vasto Lorde. There was nowhere he could move, not stuck as he was between the rock wall behind and the muscular girth in front. His drooling cock rubbed against the moving muscles as he was fucked and he found himself not wanting to move. Every time with Kurosaki felt good. Every time left him pleasured and dazed even if it was only for Kurosaki’s own end. Some part of him wanted to let Kurosaki do what he wanted as long as it felt this good. The other part wanted to murder that first part for being so weak. 

The first part was winning.

“Fuck! Kurosaki,” He moaned, toes curling as his back bowed, head pressing into the Vasto Lorde’s neck. “This was not what I had in mmm-mmind when I groped your dick, y’know. What the fuck Kurosaki. You’re supposed to be -ah!- my damn prey, not the other way around you idiot.” He complained without any heat. Not that he would let himself be cero’d out of existence if he had the ability to go back and do it again. Not that he could go back so he didn’t think any more of it. Couldn’t with how Kurosaki was doing his best to tear every moan and gasp from his throat. Clawed hands roamed up his sides and then down, skimming the inside of his thighs before hooking his knees on the Vasto Lorde’s elbows and spreading him wide suddenly. Grimmjow choked on his moan, scrabbling to find his balance and swearing as Kurosaki fucked him through it, not caring if he was accidentally clenching tight. 

The Vasto Lorde was relentless, just like the Kurosaki he knew.  _ So close. Faster. Don’t you fuckin’ dare stop Kurosaki.  _ He didn’t know whether he was just thinking it or actually saying it, but Kurosaki didn’t stop. Snapping his hips up, heavy balls slapping against his ass. The noise of it all just echoing around the carved out room. The wet slick sounds every time Kurosaki sank deep, skin slapping against skin, the deeper growling grunts, and his higher punched out moans. Everything went straight to his throbbing cock, gut coiling tighter and tighter. 

Kurosaki  _ growled. _ Red light painted them both as he gathered a cero, vaguely panicking Grimmjow before he realized Kurosaki’s true goal. The Vasto Lorde apparently had  _ enough _ of the wall and his horns preventing him from biting new overlapping marks. Grimmjow cackled even as the cero destroyed the upper portion of the wall and the ceiling of the neighboring den. Moonlight stark in the absence of the red. 

“You’re ridiculous. You know that?” He chided, still laughing even as Kurosaki bit down on his shoulder. He seemed to make up for not doing it more earlier by chomping down over and over. Pierced by teeth and cock, Grimmjow’s breath hitched each time. Blood and sweat and sex were thick in the air even with the new window. 

It didn’t take long before he was close again. Sucking in harsh breaths between punishing thrusts that punched it out of him again. The Vasto Lorde sped up as if he sensed it, encouraging him with careful fingers curling around his cock and pumping him with a slick tight grip. He shuddered and struggled against it, cursing and crying out before his body became a long line of tension, cock throbbing and pulsing as he came, sticky gobs coating Kurosaki’s fingers and leaving pale streaks that smeared across their bellies as he was fucked and stroked through it.

Kurosaki liked making him sob, liked making him cry and squirm from the oversensitivity until he went limp. It was only when he went pliant and loose against him that Kurosaki finally went still. Grimmjow was gathered up in the Vasto Lorde’s arms and laid back against the blankets on the stone floor. Tear tracks wiped away before claws dragged down his front leaving weeping lines. His hips were lifted as he was slowly penetrated again. He made a weak noise, eyelids falling shut as he arched against the pleasure that border lined pain in his oversensitive state. Kurosaki was almost gentle, it was cruel, rocking his body as he took his time in languid surging thrusts. 

The Vasto Lorde’s hands roamed on his body, squeezing and groping his pecs, his biceps, his ass, anything he could get his hands on as Kurosaki explored him. Grimmjow’s eyes flew open at the displeased growl, agitated reitsu clashing against his own. Gold on black eyes were set on the burn scar from the dip between his collar bones to his right hip, drawing a pained hiss as claws dug into the old wound. 

“Don’t fuckin’ tell me you’re jealous of your own mark.” Grimmjow cocked a brow before laughing at Kurosaki’s confused blink. “So you really don’t remember? Feel,” He grabbed the Vasto Lorde’s hand and placed it over the scar, focusing his reitsu on pulling out the faint remnants of Kurosaki’s technique, the Getsuga Tenshou that caused it. Flickers of the red-lined black of the Vasto Lorde’s reitsu against the faint blue of his own. He let go of the hand in his.

“See? Yours.” Grimmjow assured him, relaxing back against the blankets. Wrapping his legs around Kurosaki’s hips and pulling him closer, he egged Kurosaki on wordlessly. 

“Mine.” Blue eyes widened nearly comically as Kurosaki growled in the discordant two-toned voice of feral hollow, pulling him up until Grimmjow was on his lap. Claws pricked at his hips as he was lowered down back onto the cock, his hole barely offering resistance before giving way. There was no hesitation as Grimmjow wrapped his arms around broad shoulders and shuddered. Kurosaki stayed still save for the hand wrapped around his slowly plumpening cock, stroking it and staring up at him expectantly. A silent order to move.

Grimmjow swallowed thickly. 

Kurosaki seemed content to allow him to experiment and move at his own pace, guiding his hips down again and again. It was different, being the one actively in charge of moving, of fucking himself down on the cock. Grimmjow was hyper-aware of it dragging along his insides each time he moved. He was just as aware of the calloused fingertips teasing his cock. 

He froze as the sharp-clawed tip of Kurosaki’s thumb lightly traced the slit, shuddering at the sudden thrill of danger, how effortlessly and easily Kurosaki could ruin him and yet was just teasing him like this. 

“You bastard.” He shivered, voice coming out weak as the black claw tip trailed down his cock. Grimmjow didn’t go limp as soon as the threat was gone, Kurosaki rolling his balls with the barest hint of pressure, but the urge was there. Somehow, the Vasto Lorde seemed to be able to tell. Gold on black eyes, knowing and  _ amused _ as they watched him. “Fuck you.” He growled, very pleased when his voice didn’t waver, lifting himself up to sink down on the thick cock again.

“Heh.” Kurosaki grabbed his chin, the inhumanly long tongue licking into him. He couldn’t break the grip. All he could do was whine weakly as he was forced to let the Vasto Lorde do as he pleased, his insides tightening around the cock and heat rushing to his face at the helplessness. 

He’d stopped moving again, somewhere in all that, and Kurosaki took charge, hooking one of his legs with an elbow and bodily lifting him up to let gravity do the work and drop him down on the cock, tearing a whimper from his throat. Kurosaki didn’t stop, didn’t slow down, fucking his mouth and his ass, spit roasting him between the two and he could feel his cock twitching hard against his stomach. Drooling a steady stream of precome that smeared between their bellies in a shiny mess. 

The tongue pulled free as Kurosaki toppled them over, gathering both of his wrists and holding them tight above his head with one hand. “Shit!” Grimmjow struggled uselessly against the hold, gasping as Kurosaki punished him with several particularly forceful thrusts that had him sliding against the stone and blankets. 

A soft whine left him, head rolling back to show his throat and Kurosaki gave a pleased rumble, fingers wrapping around the vulnerable skin. The Vasto Lorde’s knees slid under his legs, under his hips to raise them so he could better meet the fast quick thrusts that left him breathless even without the slowly tightening grip around his throat. He was caged in by the massive body, heavy cock pressing along his insides and sending little zings of pleasure up his spine. 

He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t bring himself to care as his pleasure circled higher and higher. The blood pounding in his ears obscuring everything, even his own strangled noises, the faint whimpers and moans with what little air he could get through the grip. The rumble could be felt rather than heard, a constant vibration against his chest as Kurosaki pressed him harder into the blankets and stone, legs in the air again. 

Grimmjow was going to come like this. Without even being touched. Just the massive, hot, undulating body against his own. He was fucking back against the thrusts without even realizing it, desperate and eager and so  _ trapped. _ Unable to do more than push back and tilt his hips up to try and get the cock a little deeper, a little harder against his insides. 

He’d be begging if he had the breath for it.  _ A touch. Anything, _ on his cock, to bring him over faster. He couldn’t stand it, being on the precipice like this. So fucking close!  _ Please! Harder! Faster! _ Grimmjow groaned in his mind, vision swimming with the lack of air. 

And then  _ finally. _ Grimmjow’s body seized. Every muscle tensing and struggling against the hold, against the heavy weight, insides clenching around the plundering cock that refused to leave more than an inch or two before sheathing itself deep in him. It swelled in him, throbbing and filling him, scalding him with the spurts of liquid heat. He’d sob if he could have taken a breath, everything narrowing down to the bruising grips on his throat and wrists, his bones creaking their protest and ignored by both as Grimmjow’s cock pulsed, shooting between them as he orgasmed hard, every muscle locked in ecstasy, but Kurosaki didn’t stop moving. Forcing his inside to conform, embedding the memory of the thick cock as if Grimmjow could ever forget it.

The first breath he sucked in after that was sweet. His chest heaving as he coughed and choked and tried to curl upon himself. Kurosaki’s heat radiated from his body, he could feel exactly where he was even if he wasn’t directly touching. Just hovering. Grimmjow opened his eyes - when had he closed them? - and had to blink away the unshed tears blurring his vision. Kurosaki wiped them away, gold on black eyes peering down, concerned. Grimmjow barely registered the new hairline crack spanning the whole length of the mask.

“Mmm,” Grimmjow coughed, cleared his throat, and then tried again. “Idiot, ‘m fine. Like you’d ever actually be able to fuck me to death.” he patted Kurosaki clumsily, whole body aching and at the same time abuzz with pleasure. He felt lazy, satisfied in a way he couldn’t remember since becoming a hollow.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going.” He grouched as Kurosaki pulled away sometime between then and after a long blink that most definitely not him blacking out for a few seconds. He groped blindly for the Vasto Lorde, giving his own soft pleased rumble when Kurosaki pulled him against his chest. Nevermind the fact it was more purr than rumble. 

Grimmjow pushed his face against Kurosaki’s neck and inhaled deeply, mumbling something even he didn’t know what as he passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol, That's the literal climax of this fic folks, hope you enjoyed it! Def tell me what you think! 
> 
> I read some meta somewhere about Ichigo's Quincy power spirit thing being the one to moderate his soul reaper/hollow power and just had to use that here. So as Ichigo's consciousness is slowly _ever so slowly_ coming back, that it's starting to just as slowly re-exert control and lower his power level. 
> 
> There's just one more chapter and then the epilogue to wrap it all up! I've updated the chapter number to reflect it. :D 
> 
> I've started writing another fic lol so I hope to start posting that when this is finished. It's not bleach but a smaller fandom and a rarer pairing and I'm having fun with it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regaining consciousness dun dun DUUUUUUUUUUUUN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Image inspiration for this chapter!
> 
> Thanks! Drawn by https://www.deviantart.com/thececile/

The remaining cliff was destroyed in their next duel. Not even a boulder left to fuck on, Kurosaki shoved him down in the sands and opened him up with that long thick tongue before the Vasto Lorde bullied himself between his legs and took him then and there in the epicenter of their destruction. They moved on from there, fucking and fighting under the timeless perpetual night of Hueco Mundo.

For all that Grimmjow fed and consumed, he never saw Kurosaki even seem remotely interested in a kill. Even when the Vasto Lorde had killed it himself, he always left it for Grimmjow, eyes on the horizon instead of the ripping of tendons and snapping of joints as the Arrancar fed. Though he would end up ‘cleaning’ him up if he missed any bloody spots, something that usually devolved into Grimmjow returning the favor on his knees with lips stretched red and shiny around Kurosaki’s cock, that heavy reitsu and bitter release chasing his meal. 

For all that his attention sometimes strayed to things too far off for Grimmjow’s senses to perceive, Kurosaki didn’t leave again. Instead, he seemed to prefer being on the move when they weren’t fighting or fucking. Or the rare moments where Grimmjow was sprawled on top of that hot muscular body, passed out and dead to the world after a particularly satisfying fight fuck combination. Or sometimes just post fuck. Kurosaki seemed to enjoy wringing out orgasm after orgasm from him. 

But never both of them at the same time. At least not out in the open under Hueco Mundo’s Evernight. Kurosaki was always awake when he passed out. And he always woke to those cold golden eyes sweeping the white sands for threats. Zangetsu in one hand, holding him against his waist in the other.

There were far fewer times that Kurosaki slept, but each time it happened, Grimmjow hated the soft feeling, some part inordinately pleased at seeing the sleeping Vasto Lorde. Sometimes next to him, sometimes with his head in his lap. It’s those times he felt his eyes straying down to the mask, the long orange hair, closed eyes, and the soft rise and fall of the Vasto Lorde’s chest. He should be paying attention to the sands around them. And he was in a way, keeping track of the reitsu around them. Just with his senses rather than eyes. Sometimes it was more than his eyes that strayed. Grimmjow’s hand raised poised to touch, to sink his fingers into the long orange hair. Always stopping just shy. 

He was starting to last longer in their fights, causing more damage that lasted seconds longer than before. Something he’d be more proud of if it wasn’t for the fact that Kurosaki’s reitsu was steadily declining with each new fracture in his mask. Most of it concentrated on the left side, the eye there was now more brown in the iris than gold even if the sclera was still black. 

And he was starting to get a taste of the reitsu Kurosaki was intent on avoiding in the increasing instances where the Vasto Lorde was sensing them later than he usually did. Soul Reaper reitsu, Kurosaki’s friends? Aizen’s newly conquered subordinates? And that brought more questions to mind. If they were Aizen’s, surely there would be some Arrancar in the mix too? Who was left? 

10 - Yammy - super dead 

9 - Aienerro? Fish tank double-headed creepy dude - dead

8 - That crazy fuck Szayel - dead

7 - Creepy fucker with the extra eyes everywhere - very dead

6 - himself, presently Kurosaki’s sex/chew toy - not dead thank fuck

5 - Nnoitra, fuckin’ bastard who tried to off him! - A very dead bitch

He got distracted briefly by the spiky-haired soul reaper captain with the eyepatch who actually defeated Nnoitra - traitorous bitch trying to steal  _ his _ prey - that also seemed to think of Kurosaki as prey? He growled at the thought, Kurosaki glancing at him curiously. He flipped the Vasto Lorde off with a scowl at the amused light in not quite so golden eyes.  _ Whatever. _

4 - Ulquiorra - if the lingering reitsu when he was first grabbed by pissed off Vasto Lorde Kurosaki was any indication, super fucking dead

The rest of the Espada had gone with Aizen to aid his invasion of the world of the living and yada yada yada, he’d never bothered to pay much attention at their little meetings with the bitter shitty tea. _ Blegh. _

Kurosaki lost patience with his thinking, huffing his amusement as he pulled Grimmjow onto his lap and sank his teeth into the crook of his neck. “Damnit Kurosaki.” His words didn’t have any heat as he willingly sank down on the thick cock, still open and slick from earlier, allowing himself to be distracted. 

It was still some time before the other side of the mask was just as fractured, both eyes brown on black and Kurosaki’s power level starting to level out just above his. They’d trekked all the way around to the other side of Las Noches, still keeping a few days from the Arrancar city. 

He’d found sunken remnants of a cave, something that widened and deepened the further inside one got and could be blocked up easily and securely. 

Grimmjow frowned as he concentrated on making the little blue balls of reitsu to light, lighting the old tunnel. It looked like the same thing that Las Noches had been built upon. Some past and gone hollow civilization. But hardly anybody knew about them and even less used the passages so he found himself not caring. Especially when Kurosaki decided to use the lights to try and drive him to distraction, enjoying finding out what things made the balls of reitsu flicker. Too distracted by the sharp touch, the cock inside him, the hand on his own stroking faster, gripping tighter, too much to feel and hold onto any thought except  _ more. _

“You’re such an asshole,” Grimmjow complained afterward, half sprawled with Kurosaki’s softening dick still inside him. Kurosaki’s fingertips carefully thread through his hair, the pads rubbing his scalp and turning him into even more of a sleepy post-coital mush. Passing out before he’d even realized it.

Grimmjow had gotten so used to the splintering crack of the mask, he hadn’t even woken when it echoed in the underground chamber. His lights dimmed but not entirely out. He just grumbled what was supposed to be a complaint - too muffled to be intelligible in reality - into the Vasto Lorde’s back, pressed up between him and the stone wall. 

He mewled his protest as Kurosaki moved away, immediately moving into the warm spot left behind and reaching blindly for the Vasto Lorde. 

“Grimmjow?” Kurosaki’s normal voice was low, almost shaky. He frowned as he rolled over onto his back and yawned widely, still sleep-addled as he responded with a questioning hum. 

“Wher- ARE YOU NAKED? WHY ARE YOU NAKED?” Kurosaki shouted, voice echoing painfully and Grimmjow winced at the noise.

“Oh shut up!” He shot an offended look at the teenager, bristling at the tone. As if this was  _ his _ choice when Kurosaki was the one ripping his damn pants to shreds every damn  _ fucking _ time. “Of course  _ I’m _ naked,  **_you_ ** _ -!” _ Grimmjow’s mind finally caught up with his mouth, snapping shut with an audible click as he stared disbelieving at the teenager. Not a Vasto Lorde. Not anymore. Long orange hair still falling away to return to the usual stuck up everywhere style, no hole in his chest, no more hollow white skin, just tanned skinny muscles. Black soul reaper uniform covering the rest of him and the sword wrapped in cloth on his back. It felt like he’d been stabbed. But he hadn’t. Kurosaki’s sword was still embedded into the floor where it’d been stabbed there before they passed out and his was still sheathed.

“You don’t remember….” He ended up saying instead, woodenly, forcing the words out of his mouth. It wasn’t a question, but Kurosaki answered anyway.

“Remember what? And why the  _ hell _ are you naked!?” Kurosaki demanded, half angry, half concerned as he stared at Grimmjow. Nope. This was not happening. What the hell was he gonna say? ‘Hey Kurosaki, you fuckin’ hollowified and then made me your goddamn sex toy’. Nope nope nope nope. 

“Fuck you Kurosaki!” Grimmjow growled out, flipping the teen off, grabbing his sword, and striding up out of the tunnel cave system. He extinguished the little blue lights as he went. He couldn’t let Kurosaki see the streaks of come still drying on his thighs. 

This was fine. There was just the one witness to the whole thing and Yammy was fuckin’ dead so there were no fuckin’ witnesses. Nobody would know. 

Just his memories.

He should be happy.

“Hey! Grimmjow! Don’t walk away, explain this! What the hell happened?!” Kurosaki shouted after him. He could feel the teen reaching out to grab his shoulder and twisted, slapping the hand away with a vicious snarl. 

“Tough shit Kurosaki.” Grimmjow snapped, unsheathing his sword and uttering the release command. The blockage they’d put to keep other hollows out going flying from the force of the released Resurrección. He lept out of the tunnel and onto the white sands, fully intending to Sonido away when Kurosaki got in his way, soul reaper uniform gone and in its place the black robes of his Bankai, Zangetsu clashing with his claws. 

Grimmjow couldn’t help his eyes going wide when the hollow mask Kurosaki formed was not the one he’d used when he and the Vizard last fought. Back when Kurosaki had still been his prey, when Kurosaki had been Kurosaki. This mask was the same as the Vasto Lorde with the thick stripes down through the eyes, down the serrated teeth and out the bottom of the mask. The same golden eyes staring him down, pinning him in place. 

“My mask feels heavier.” Kurosaki mused in the discordant two-toned voice of a hollow before he pulled it off, dismissing it back into redlined black reitsu. The eyes that stared up at him were brown, black quickly fading back to white, but it was no less piercing. “I was fighting Ulquiorra…” The teen seemed to be trying to remember. Grimmjow grit his teeth, huffing a laugh.

“Yeah, probably cero’d you through the fuckin’ heart like he usually does to his prey.” Grimmjow supplied. It wouldn’t be surprising. He’d brought the girl, the healer, to fix up Kurosaki after the first time Ulquiorra put a hole in the teen’s chest. The fight they'd had was worth it. 

“I had to protect her.” Kurosaki’s eyes were wide and unseeing. Reitsu flaring out wild and lashing out uncontrolled in his distress.  _ The healer girl,  _ Grimmjow’s mind helpfully supplied, ruthlessly stomping out the flare of jealousy.

“And fuckin’ hollowified into a  _ Vasto Lorde _ to do so. Shit, I forgot how fuckin’ sappy you are.” Grimmjow groaned, making a blah blah blah motion with his black clawed hands. “Power of fuckin’ friendship and all that shit. Whatever. Congrats, you figured it out.” He snarked, rolling his eyes as he launched himself back using Kurosaki’s chest as a springboard. He relished the pained grunt, satisfied in returning at least a  _ little _ of what he was feeling. 

Kurosaki launched himself after him, forcing him to defend and sending sand flying around them both. Claws and blades clashed, the red/black of Kurosaki’s reitsu against his blue, Getsuga Tensho’s and Desgarron melting the white sands to glass before shattering it again. 

He was so focused on Kurosaki, he hadn’t even realized the teens’ soul reaper buddies had surrounded them until he was thrown back and found all his escape routes blocked. He sank back onto his back paws, body coiled and ready to spring. Only his tail showed his agitation, lashing behind him as he assessed. 

Kurosaki was panting, sword up like he was ready to go again. Grimmjow couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled over. Yeah, the soul reapers could look at him like he was fuckin’ crazy all they wanted. After all that, he was gonna get offed by some damn  _ soul reapers. _ Nah, fuck that.

“Grimmjow,” Kurosaki said his name, eyes all  _ soft _ . The sneer on Grimmjow’s lips was a habit. He couldn’t stand those damn eyes. 

“Kurosaki,” Grimmjow answered through gritted teeth, eyes flitting between all the soul reapers, the real threat here. Kurosaki’s name was echoed by the others, the healer girl among them. He could see how the teen got even softer as he looked at them all. He decided he hated that look even more. 

“You’ve been gone for over a month.” A smooth voice beside him startled him. He’d gotten too focused on the Kurosaki and hadn’t even noticed the Quincy bastard sneaking up on him. Four-eyes pushed his glasses farther up his nose, not even looking at him the bastard. A month sounded about right though. Kurosaki had the balls to look sheepish, apologizing for worrying everybody.  _ Fuckin’ disgusting. _

“If you’re all done with the sappy shit,” Grimmjow interrupted, “I’d rather you all just fuck back off to the soul society or whatever the fuck it’s called.” At least half of them drew their blades. Only half. He was losing his touch. Damn Kurosaki for makin’ him soft.

“Grimmjow. What have I been doing for a month?” Kurosaki’s gaze was less soft this time, more suspicious. 

“You’ve been a newborn Vasto Lorde, Kurosaki, what do you think you’ve been doing?” Grimmjow was tired. Too tired to be dealing with all of this bullshit. Kurosaki frowned at him. Tried to read him from the way those soft eyes seemed to pierce him, and then he put away his blade and stepped closer. Grimmjow rose to his full height, even taller in his Resurrección. 

“Well then, thanks for looking after me I guess.” Kurosaki offered seriously. Grimmjow stared at him. Barely able to comprehend and even when he did, just unable to believe it.  _ This kid _ , Grimmjow shook his head as laughter bubbled up. Shoulders shaking, head thrown back, no holding back the deep nearly maniacal laughter. Murmurs came from the soul reapers but he ignored them even as his laughter faded. Eyes half-lidded as he rolled his head to the side and enjoyed the way Kurosaki’s eyes flashed golden when they dropped to his neck. 

“Did you mean it when you said I could come to fight you whenever I wanted?” He asked, voice softer than he’d meant to make it. Kurosaki looked surprised for a moment before smiling at him, the fucker. 

“Yeah, of course.” Kurosaki’s words were warm. He viciously shoved down the answering warmth in his chest. 

Grimmjow glanced down at the soul reapers around them instead. If they were all still alive, it seemed the other Espada had been killed and Aizen’s plan had failed. Not that he particularly cared. It just meant he was the last Espada, no doubt the other Arrancars had fled the city Aizen made.  _ Weak little bitches. _

“Oh shit, hey! Is Karakura town alright?” Kurosaki seemed to have the same thought process, directing the question to the stone-faced captain with the white kenseikan and then to four eyes off to his side. Their expressions went grave and Kurosaki grew serious. 

“With the help of Gin, Urahara managed to trap him temporarily in the soul society. But it will not last much longer.” Stone-faced said, grey eyes rising to meet Kurosaki’s.    
  


So Aizen was not only still alive and kickin’ but even with literally  _ all _ the captains they were still stickin’ their thumbs up their ass and lookin’ to Kurosaki to help them out.

“Fuck  _ that _ .” Grimmjow shook his head. If all of them didn’t stand a chance, there was no way he did either. He didn’t grope Vasto Lorde dick and become a sex/chew toy for a whole damn month just to be squashed like a gnat. He ignored all the pairs of eyes that snapped to him, except one. Blue trained on the soft brown. “Ah hell, don’t give me that face. You gotta be shittin’ me Kurosaki!” 

There was no changing that mind. He knew that face, that determined expression, eyes set dead ahead so they looked through him. The same face the kid had when he stopped Grimmjow’s clawed fist when he’d be so sure he’d won, somehow Kurosaki had drawn upon impossible reserves to kick his ass. And then there was the fact Kurosaki was technically the most powerful fuckin’ hollow he’d ever come across. Grimmjow snorted at the fact he was even considering betting on Kurosaki.

“I am so gonna kick your ass the next time we fight.” He sneered. “After all the shit you put me through, you better not hold back, you got it? I want a serious fight.” He jabbed at Kurosaki’s chest, stepping into his space and staying there. Brown eyes turned to gold at the challenge, a hint of amusement that he was so familiar with, he almost purred. So the Vasto Lorde was still in there after all. 

“You can try.” Kurosaki shot back, chin up and those golden eyes focused only on him. Grimmjow couldn’t stop the grin splitting his face even if he wanted. He opened a Garganta behind Kurosaki. 

“Get lost Kurosaki.” He ordered, walking away from him. Walking away from the soul reapers. His ears flicked back at some of them debating letting him go, but Kurosaki wasn’t hearing it. Grimmjow lept to the ceiling of Las Noches. They’d somehow gotten close to the city while fighting, he hadn’t even noticed. Too focused on Kurosaki. Bright blue eyes watching them leave one by one after a brief fuss. He imagined over whether it was safe or not. But Kurosaki didn’t even question it, the first one to step inside and the others reluctantly followed.

_ Good riddance, _ Grimmjow rubbed his chest absently as the Garganta closed and surveyed Hueco Mundo. 

He was finally king. 

It was an empty kingdom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol so the ' “Yeah, of course.” ' was where the original ending for this fic was. Everything past that was added on because ya'll were so great about encouraging me with comments! I am most definitely a GinxRangiku shipper so ya'll don't worry. He's alive in this lil fic world. Rangiku is taking care of him and also berating him for being an idiot and just planning on sacrificing _everything_ for what? Her honor? He's so gone for her uwu I love it.
> 
> There is only the Epilogue left! 
> 
> Remember that I do not have a beta reader so unless it's fixable in a few minutes, I don't want to hear any criticism thanks! 
> 
> I _DO_ absolutely want to hear what you think!


	5. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And finally, we're at the end folks. Thanks for sticking around and I hope you enjoyed the ride haha 
> 
> tldr: Grimmjow came for a good time and got a case of the Feels™ instead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I was originally planning to end this last chapter, honestly, I'd headcannoned Gin into killing Aizen by Idk just adding a bit more of the sword piece and having it dissolve the head. A disconnection between his mind and the hogyuku thing taking away his immortality and bam, dead and gone Aizen and you didn't have to make a poor kid go through all that pressure and loss.
> 
> Obviously, that's no longer the case. Sorry Ichi.

Grimmjow sprawled out on the bed, blue eyes trained on Kurosaki and four eyes as they went over schoolwork. The two bent over books and notebooks and every so often, Four-eyes sent an uneasy glance to him from time to time from the corner of his eyes as if he thought Grimmjow wouldn’t notice.

He grinned at the Quincy each time, his teeth bared in threatening glee. 

Grimmjow had gotten in through the open window. After spending long enough in the permanent night in Hueco Mundo, hunting and consuming, he’d been ready for an actual fight. He just couldn’t find the kid’s usually wildly obvious reitsu when he’d stepped out the Garganta. So he made off for the familiar tasting ones, one of Kurosaki’s friends was there too, thinking they’d know. Only to find out his prey was actually there and that there was not even a hint of the power Kurosaki once had that remained. 

Kurosaki couldn’t see him, couldn’t hear him. Hell, the kid couldn’t even sense his presence or else he’d know he had a fuckin’  _ Espada _ laying down on his bed. 

“Is something there?” Kurosaki asked four eyes, puzzled concern on his face and Grimmjow was finding that there were a host of pathetic expressions he hated more than when those brown eyes went soft on him. Four-eyes glanced at him, opening his mouth to respond.

“Don’t tell him.” Grimmjow interrupted. Four-eyes mouth closed and the Quincy sighed. 

“It’s just Chad and Orihime taking out a hollow, it’s nothing to worry about.” Four-eyes lied for him smoothly. Kurosaki’s eyes fell to the book in his lap.

“I see.” There were too many feelings in those words for Grimmjow to discern and he found himself frowning for the whole time they studied. At least until Kurosaki’s sister called him down briefly to help with something, leaving him alone with the Quincy.

“What are you even doing here?” Four eyes finally snapped, glaring at him head-on instead of stealing looks like a bitch.

“I came for a fight!” Grimmjow snapped back, showing teeth before sighing. “Not that it looks like I’ll get one. The fuck happened?”

“He gave up his powers to stop Aizen,” Four-eyes answered, startled into honesty by something he saw in Grimmjow. He growled at that but couldn’t find any surprise. Of course that sap would go so far.

“So why are you  _ still _ here then?” The Quincy demanded. 

“It’s a comfy bed.” Grimmjow shifted, making himself more comfortable and encompassing the entirety of the narrow bed. The Quincy snorted at his response, considering him from the corners of his eyes.

“You were really with Kurosaki for a whole month when he was-,” Four eyes couldn’t seem to bring himself to finish.

“When he was a Vasto Lorde? Yeah. He fucked off twice but he came back after a bit. I’m assuming he went to deal with whoever the soul reapers sent after him.” 

“How did you survive?” The question was blunter than Grimmjow expected, bristling at the implication of weakness before something in the Quincy’s tone struck him and a grin spread slowly.

“He got ya, didn’t he?” His grin grew as the Quincy stiffened, laughing at that. “You thought there was something of Kurosaki in that newborn feral  _ mess _ and it came back and bit you in the ass. I survived because I don’t care about that sappy shit, I appealed to his instincts.” He didn’t need to say  _ which _ instincts. But the Quincy’s eyes slid back to him.  _ To his shoulders _ , the edges of the bite marks not hidden under his jacket. The grin fell to a scowl as four eyes hummed thoughtfully. But Kurosaki returned with tea and snacks and the study session continued.

It lasted long enough that Grimmjow nearly fell asleep. Bored out of his mind by the time Four-eyes rose and both of them started to pack up their books. The Quincy hesitated to leave, clearly not wanting to leave him with the now completely human and defenseless Kurosaki. 

But in the end, he still left. And Kurosaki sagged the moment he closed his bedroom door.  _ Pretending to be strong _ , Grimmjow realized. But that wasn’t quite right. More like pretending to be unaffected by the loss of his powers, Grimmjow corrected himself, rising from the bed. The bedsprings creaked. Kurosaki’s head snapped up, searching blindly. Brown eyes roamed, both on and past him as Grimmjow silently stepped closer.

“Who’s there?” He demanded, calling out the names of his soul reaper friends. Names he’d never bothered to learn and still didn’t care to now. Grimmjow hovered just outside of Kurosaki’s reach, ignoring the twisting of something in his chest as Kurosaki fell silent and waited. Kurosaki’s face was older, hair longer since the last time he saw him. Those shoulders broader and while he was a bit more muscular, there was still nowhere near the girth of the Vasto Lorde. He could see when Kurosaki gave up, the way the hope left and his expression twisted with emotion. 

He hadn’t meant to reach out, hadn’t meant to let Kurosaki know he’d come. But his hand was wrapped around the still narrow wrist of Kurosaki’s sword arm, dragging his nails down and leaving a series of short red trails in their wake. He savored the gasp, how Kurosaki instinctively tried to pull his wrist free and yet couldn’t break his grip. 

“Grimmjow?” Kurosaki guessed, voice wary and expression suspicious. He rewarded it with an open palm pressing lightly against Kurosaki’s chest, hot under the cloth of his t-shirt. He hadn’t expected Kurosaki to lean into it, releasing him as he startled away. The teen closed his eyes. “I can’t fight you.” 

“Yeah, I figured that out,” Grimmjow answered even if Kurosaki couldn’t hear him. A very human, very fragile Kurosaki pushed off from against the doorway, arms out as if he could find Grimmjow from feel alone. It made him snort as he easily dodged the hands and pushed Kurosaki on the bed. Slender muscular frame bouncing.  _ Whoops _ , maybe he’d put a little too much force into it.

“Hey! What the hell Grimmjow!” Kurosaki yelped, already twisting to meet him and he huffed. Amused by the attitude as he slid onto the bed too and bit down on Kurosaki’s shoulder, drawing another yelp. The teen’s hands grabbed and twisted into his jacket, not releasing him even as he licked at the new wound. 

“What the hell was that for?!” He shouted. Grimmjow stayed close enough that he knew Kurosaki could feel the puff of breath from the ‘heh’. But before he could get mad, Grimmjow grabbed one of his hands and put it against the faint thin raised scar lines of the bite marks the Vasto Lorde had left.

“I did that?” Grimmjow let him explore them, hands leaving a burning trail, and nodded when those hands traveled to his jaw and Kurosaki could feel it. “Sorry.” The teen hung his head, hair falling over his eyes. Grimmjow growled, low and two-toned even if Kurosaki couldn’t hear it. He’d be able to feel it as Grimmjow pressed against him, sinking his teeth into the unmarked shoulder. 

“Ah! Alright, got it. No apologizing.” 

_ Good _ , Grimmjow let go, soothing the wound with his tongue. He wondered how much better the blood would taste if it had Kurosaki’s power in it still. He’d never gotten to taste it when he’d been a Vasto Lorde. 

He was startled out of that thought by Kurosaki leaning against him, smushing his face against the scar down his chest and sighing. If he felt the shiver he made, the kid didn’t react.

Grimmjow hesitated a moment. This wasn’t the Vasto Lorde with all the inherent danger if he moved wrong. Hell, Kurosaki as he was would never be able to get past his Hierro and probably end up hurting himself if he tried. He pushed Kurosaki away, turning him over and slotting himself to the kid’s back, mouthing at the back of his neck while holding him there with an arm around his chest. He watched what he could see of the face and ear flush red but Kurosaki didn’t even try to fight him. If anything, he seemed to incrementally relax against him until his breathing evened out and Grimmjow could feel his heartbeat slow beneath his hand. 

“I thought everyone else would have visited by now, but I guess they’ve been busy. I didn’t think it’d be you Grimmjow,” Kurosaki murmured. It seemed more to himself than at Grimmjow but it made him pause regardless. After Kurosaki defeated Aizen and gave up his powers to do so, none of those fuckers even visited? He was growling before he even realized, quieting only when Kurosaki’s hand reached back and ran through his hair, arching up against the fingertips against his scalp with a weak sound.

“Thanks, Grimmjow.” They stayed like that until the teen drifted off to sleep, leaving Grimmjow to shovel through the conflicting instincts and feelings alone, the bastard. 

He’d missed Kurosaki. Missed having the Vasto Lorde at his back watching over him while he slept. Missed all-out fighting where he didn’t have to hold back, missed it most when Kurosaki didn’t hold back either. That one fight after he’d made the healer woman revive Kurosaki had been  _ glorious, _ even beaten he hadn’t been able to give it up. Grimmjow realized he’d missed having all of Kurosaki’s attention centered on him. Hell, he even kinda missed being fucked senseless, held down, and  _ used. _ His body was quick to remind him of the heat radiating from Kurosaki. Even if the frame was leaner, his scent was a bit different, it was still Kurosaki. A part of him that he hadn’t been able to satisfy by hunting and consuming Adjuchas hungered for more of Kurosaki. 

Instead, he lapped at the bite marks he’d made. Making sure they weren’t bleeding before pulling the collar of the loose tee higher, hiding them away. He didn’t bother trying to shove down the little thrill at having his marks stay  _ (finally), _ only ignoring the little niggling voice in the back of his mind that reminded him it was only because Kurosaki lost all of his powers. 

The sun had already fallen, moonlight filtering in through the open window before Grimmjow carefully extricated himself. He eyed the human for what felt like a long moment before leaving the same way he came. Hueco Mundo’s perpetual crescent moon greeted him when he stepped back through the Garganta.

“You’re back sooner than expected.” A calm female voice almost made him jump out of his skin.

“Fuck off Harribel,” Grimmjow growled, ignoring her as he strode off into the white sands, just  _ itching _ to kill something.

*  *  *  * * 

He stayed in Hueco Mundo longer this time. Alternating between hunting and watching Harribel’s little gathering of hollows grow. Grimmjow didn’t cause trouble there. Mostly because all of those weaklings were beneath his notice - not at all because Harribel would kick his ass if he tried some shit. It’d been fun when she asked him to destroy the roof of Las Noches, cero’ing the ever sun ceiling with relish. They were creatures of the night and bleach-white sands. It’d just been a shitty tactic to keep them on edge when Aizen was still around. But for the most part, he stayed solitary, like before his fraccion stumbled upon him and decided to join him on the quest to gain more power, to become a Vasto Lorde. 

He didn’t remember being so aware of the absence before. 

Grimmjow stood suddenly, ripping open a Garganta and trodding fearlessly through the black until the other side opened up and he stepped out above Karakura town. He flared his reitsu wide out of habit, announcing his arrival, beckoning challengers to come and face him. He swept his senses out, picking up the vaguely familiar feel of Kurosaki’s friends and then-... It couldn’t be. But it was. With the others, Kurosaki’s wild reitsu flaring up in answer. He threw his head back and cackled right there with the Garganta closing behind him. Kurosaki’s power was back! 

His whole body practically vibrated with excited glee, shifting his weight between his feet in a boxer's shuffle before he took off towards it, speeding his steps with Sonido and moving fast enough normal spirits wouldn’t be able to track his movement. Kurosaki was waiting for him outside what looked like a shop as he halted in front of him, sending dirt flying but Kurosaki didn’t flinch. Grimmjow hadn’t stopped grinning.

Kurosaki looked older. Hair cut short again and he was taller. Not taller than Grimmjow, he still had that won by a couple of inches. He was finally starting to fill out, though still not near the bulk of how he looked as a Vasto Lorde, and Grimmjow suspected that he may never be. But that was alright, he thought as he ran his eyes over the lean powerful form. He could see more of it in the tight tee and jeans of his human body than the loose robes of a soul reaper uniform.

“Kurosaki, you never came to tell me you got your powers back.” He accused, meaning to tease but it came out as a low purr instead as he stepped closer. Peering down through half-lidded eyes intently, he couldn’t help the flutter of excitement as Kurosaki stepped fearlessly forward, matching him, meeting him.

“You never come to visit again.” Kurosaki challenged back, brown eyes narrowing on him.  _ Ah _ , Grimmjow blinked. Did Kurosaki feel abandoned?

“What? This is the second time Kurosaki I’ve come to visit you. Technically it’s the fourth if you count the two times I kicked your ass before you even came to Hueco Mundo. Hell, I even brought you back from the dead and then babysat your ass for a month, you fuckin’ owe me you lil shit.” He growled, narrowing his eyes, poking Kurosaki at the center of his chest.

“Hey! Ow!” Kurosaki yelped, shoving him back and rubbing his chest. Grimmjow snorted, stepping right back into Kurosaki’s space. The grin relaxing into a more serious expression.

“How long has it been anyway?” Grimmjow wondered, tilting his head slightly before continuing. “You better spill on how you got your powers back. And I want a real fight!” He added, unable to help himself as the grin came back, splitting his face almost. Kurosaki boggled at him. 

“It’s been over a year, Grimmjow.” Kurosaki finally said. Grimmjow nodded to himself. 

“Hey, kinda hard to tell the time when it’s always the same.” Grimmjow reminded before shrugging. “Are we gonna fight or what?” 

Kurosaki scowled up at him, the expression so familiar, he smirked from habit. The scowl deepened. “What? Don’t tell me you got me all  _ excited _ for nothing.” He purred, stepping close enough to feel the heat radiating from the other. Blue eyes didn’t miss the way Kurosaki’s throat worked, nor the way brown eyes flashed gold as they dipped down his bare chest, lower. “Well?” Grimmjow arched a brow. He could tell the moment Kurosaki decided to give in, the tension in his body bleeding away and determination settling in those brown eyes so familiar, it sent thrills up his spine.

“Yeah fine. But not until we get to the basement, the last thing I need is you tearing up Karakura town.” Kurosaki turned, heading into the shop without a glance back. Grimmjow hesitated, feeling the reitsu of two soul reapers as well as Kurosaki’s human friends, the Quincy, and the healer woman. But Kurosaki wouldn’t let anything happen to him, so he stepped inside and followed spiky orange hair through the shop and to a ladder leading down.

“You gotta be shitting me. This has been here the whole time?” Grimmjow voiced his disbelief, disregarding the ladder entirely and just jumping down first, slowing his descent with his reitsu when he got towards the rocky bottom. It was a huge room, fitting entire rock formations and canyons under a bright sun. There were reitsu dampeners along the walls and ceiling so that the outside wouldn’t be affected by the wild energies clashing and colliding. They could let loose. 

“Yeah, this is where Mr. Hat ‘n Clogs trained me at first and anybody else who asks really.” Kurosaki landed beside him, steps much lighter than his human body. Grimmjow turned to sneer at the soul reaper uniform before blinking. It was different. There was a collar, black with white around the sides, an armored neck guard only open at the front. There were various black stripes crisscrossed over his forearms, his chest. More armor?

“That is new.” He murmured, coming closer to trace over them. The neck guard felt similar to the armor of his Resurrección. The others were soft, but not exactly the fabric. Kurosaki didn’t seem to mind his inspection, he could see goosebumps when he ran his fingers lightly over the black against the pale skin. When he looked up, there was something different about those dark eyes. Holding the gaze, his hand traveled up, under Kurosaki’s sleeve. 

Kurosaki let him.

Grimmjow let him go. If only to push his collar open wider and trace the black down beneath the black cloth. Blue eyes watched intently, looking for something, a sign to make him stop, and not finding it. Kurosaki’s eyes were just as determined, just as soft as when the teen had cut him down, patient under his exploration. Even when he stepped closer, a palm went to Kurosaki’s pec feeling the new size of it, there was just a faint twitch. He wanted more… 

Grimmjow came closer, close enough to feel the heat of Kurosaki against him, and leaned down. He could feel Kurosaki’s breath, he bet Kurosaki could feel his too. Still watching, still pushing, closing the distance slow enough that the other could pull away if he didn’t want this. Eyes dropping down to the others’ lips.

“Oh hey down there!” An unfamiliar male voice called from the top of the ladder and Grimmjow jumped back, every hair standing on end at being so caught off guard, growling and looking up. A soul reaper in a hat wore a shit-eating grin as he waved. Kurosaki scowled, not even bothering to say anything back before sending a half-hearted getsuga tenshou towards the roof. There was an ‘eep’ and then the blast of energy was dissipated against the ceiling. The hatch had been shut before it could reach him. Pity.

He strode away, drawing his sword and uttering the release command as he dragged his claws over the flat side. The released energy blew away all the loose dirt. Grimmjow didn’t have to look behind him to know Kurosaki had entered his Bankai, he could feel the increased reitsu output, heavy and dense. Good, Kurosaki wasn’t gonna hold back. Neither would he.

Before he could turn and attack, Kurosaki leaped past him, moving to the center of the giant room. Grimmjow launched after him, bloodlust pounding through his veins. He didn’t use Garra de la Pantera or Dasgarrion. Neither did Kurosaki use his getsuga tenshou. Both of them coming together, sword against claw, again and again. Coming close enough to feel the heat of each other’s bodies. It was exhilarating feeling the catch of his claws tearing through fabric and flesh, to feel Kurosaki’s blade biting past his armor and Hierro. Laughter bubbled up on its own and never once did the grin fade even as he pushed his body onwards, ignoring the stinging wounds and the burn of abused muscles, the slick feel of blood and sweat against his skin. He could smell it, thick in the air between them, power still rolling off Kurosaki’s body even when he’d reached his limit and his Resurrección faded, leaving him panting for breath between bouts of laughter. He didn’t want it to end. 

“Grimmjow.” Kurosaki caught his blade with his bare hands. Even with Grimmjow exhausting himself, Kurosaki still had those huge reitsu reserves left. He didn’t have enough to focus and narrow down to cut through it. Grimmjow tensed automatically, body remembering what happened the last time he was caught and those eyes went soft. But it didn’t come, Kurosaki just released his Bankai and put his sword away, broadcasting his intent to touch with a slow reach. He shuddered under it, hot against his chest, Kurosaki’s palm rough against the scar down the center of his chest. 

“You don’t have to push yourself like that. I’m not going anywhere.” Kurosaki reminded gently. Blue eyes were wide, he knew it but at the same time, he couldn’t help the surprise. “I told you, didn’t I? You can come to fight me whenever you want.” Kurosaki added, expression set in that determined look he knew so well. Grimmjow grinned, throwing his head back and laughing as he pulled Pantera out of Kurosaki’s grip and sheathed it with a soft  _ snk. _

“Yeah, you did.” Grimmjow nodded, still grinning as he relaxed. 

“There’s a hot spring over towards the entrance.” Kurosaki’s hand withdrew, but he was offered a small smile as he was led to it. Steam was rising off the water appealingly.

“Hell yeah!” Grimmjow stripped out of the jacket, discarding it against the rocks. He pushed the hakama off his waist and stepped out of them before glancing back at Kurosaki who was gawking at him. “What? Aren’t you coming in?” He asked as he stepped into it, sinking in under with a low pleased groan. The heat felt so good on achy muscles and he didn’t hesitate to recline against the edge of the spring. He opened eyes he hadn’t realized he’d closed to look up at Kurosaki. He smirked at the flushed cheeks and heated look and snickered when his prey startled out of his wide-eyed ogling. At least there was no shouting at his nudity this time.

Kurosaki blushed deeper as he started to undress, pointedly avoiding looking at him but Grimmjow watched intently anyway. He enjoyed the reveal of tanned skin, eyes unabashedly devouring each new inch, relearning Kurosaki’s shape. Long and lean, he wanted to sink his teeth into the arch of his shoulders, feel the muscle of his pecs and run his hands down his back and grab handfuls of muscular ass. He couldn’t help the surge of delight as the soft cock between Kurosaki’s legs twitched, perking up with just his attention. The teen hissed as a few of the shallow cuts met the water but sank in and leaned against the other side. Grimmjow liked those too, liked seeing the cuts and bruises from their sparring marking him. Leaving evidence that everybody could see, tangible proof of his influence, it made his instincts purr in satisfaction.  _ His _ prey.

“Who told you I got my powers back?” Kurosaki asked after the silence dragged on for a few minutes. 

“Nobody, why?” Grimmjow cocked a brow, not understanding the line of questioning.

“But you came right for me, how’d you know?” 

“You’re still shit at controlling your reitsu, I could feel you the moment I stepped out of the Garganta.” Grimmjow snorted.

“If you didn’t know, then why did you come?” Kurosaki asked slowly, still not meeting his eyes. Grimmjow frowned at him, trying to figure out the reasoning behind the questions before realizing it.

“You didn’t think I’d come around again unless you had powers.” Grimmjow’s eyes narrowed in on his prey, leaning forward off the edge of the spring. 

“Yes,” Kurosaki answered, finally meeting his eyes. “Was I wrong?” He challenged and Grimmjow found himself instinctively rising to meet it, crossing the spring to grip Kurosaki’s throat. 

“Powers or no powers, you’re  _ my _ prey,” Grimmjow growled. He could feel the pulse beneath his fingers speed up, could see the way Kurosaki’s pupils swelled, black edging out the brown, but they still met him fearlessly. “If I wasn’t gonna come back, I would have left without you even knowing I was there. So yeah, you’re dead wrong Soul Reaper.” 

Kurosaki swallowed. He could feel his throat working for a moment but no words came out. Grimmjow released him, settling back down where he was before and letting his eyes fall closed and his body relax. The hot spring was healing him, he realized, no doubt it was also healing Kurosaki. He was entertaining thoughts of a second round of fighting when he felt a prickle of instincts. Kurosaki was staring at him, warm brown eyes golden instead as Grimmjow watched him back through half-lidded eyes. A slow smirk quirked his lips up at the corners. He let his head roll back, exposing his neck the way the Vasto Lorde liked so much.

Kurosaki reeled back as if struck.

Grimmjow frowned. He lifted his head, brows furrowing together as he tried to puzzle out this reaction. Even when Kurosaki had reverted back, he’d still enjoyed seeing Grimmjow bare his neck. But the gold had faded immediately. “The fuck?” Grimmjow growled, narrowing his eyes at his prey. Everything he’d done so far had been allowed, if not welcome. So then, why? 

“You fuckin’ remember, don’t you?” Everything so far had been new. This was the one thing he’d done for the Vasto Lorde. He stood suddenly. Whether to confront or to flee, he didn’t know.

“I started remembering when I got my powers back,” Kurosaki admitted, folding in on himself a little, drawing his arms closer around himself as if chasing off a chill. It made Grimmjow pause, the muscles in his jaw twitch. “It started as dreams. I didn’t think it was real at first. Grimmjow, the things I did to you-, I-...”  
  
“ _Don’t say it.”_ Grimmjow interrupted with a hiss, drawing himself up and over Kurosaki. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare.” Brown eyes were wide and vulnerable as he looked up at him, guilt easily readable. Grimmjow closed his eyes, unwilling to see it as he sighed.

“I’m not like you Kurosaki. I won’t regret what I had to do to survive.” He growled out. Kurosaki seemed to curl in on himself more, taking his words the wrong way. Grimmjow made an impatient noise, sucking in a breath before deciding  _ fuck it _ and reaching out to grab Kurosaki’s chin, forcing him to look up at him.

“I  _ liked _ it,” Grimmjow said bluntly. 

The effect was immediate. Kurosaki sucked in a harsh breath, eyes wide and golden and black swirling in his sclera. He could scent the lust on him and read it easily. “But I almost killed you!”

“What? That first time? Nah, you were the one that closed the wound that bastard Nnoitra gave me  _ and _ you didn’t let me get eaten.” Grimmjow retorted, rolling his eyes.

“But look at all the ones I gave you, I bit you a lot!” Kurosaki stood, running his hands over all of the thin raised scars from the overlapping bite marks. Grimmjow shivered, distinctly remembering the serrated teeth piercing through his Hierro as if it didn’t exist. Kurosaki’s hands retreated as if burned and Grimmjow growled.

“Why are you reacting as if I hadn’t already chosen to keep the scars from you?” Grimmjow challenged, “If I didn’t want them, I could have just told the healer woman to get rid of them all ages ago.” He grumbled half-heartedly to himself about needing to leave a few on Kurosaki. Even the bites he’d left were gone without a trace and that was hardly fair.

Kurosaki gawked at him again.

“I-I meant that time in the cave,” He said when he found his words again. “Grimmjow you were barely breathing at first, you passed out twice!” 

“Kurosaki, I’ve never come so hard in my entire  _ existence _ . If you’re gonna beat yourself up about anything, it should be over how you seem to be trying pretty damn hard to make sure you don’t get a chance to try and top that,” Grimmjow barely resisted rolling his eyes again, tone incredulous. “I ain’t some fragile little human, I’m a fuckin’ hollow.” 

Kurosaki’s mouth opened. And closed. And opened again. And then just when Grimmjow was about to reach the end of his patience, “Grimmjow-… you’d still want me? Even after everything I did?” 

“Yeah, unless you’re offering your ass this time,” Grimmjow purred, channeling his frustration with how Kurosaki was refusing to  _ get it  _ into something he wanted. The reaction he got made it worth it, Kurosaki flushing hard enough that his ears and chest were as red as his face. He stepped closer, pushing apart Kurosaki’s thighs to make room for himself between them. Kurosaki gasped, head tilting back as he looked up at him. Grimmjow grabbed his chin, tentatively leaning down to claim those lips. Just careful pressure at first, then he bit Kurosaki’s lower lip and swallowed the sharp exhale. He licked inside, eager to learn Kurosaki’s taste as he deepened the kiss. Kurosaki let him do as he pleased for just a moment before his competitive nature kicked in and then he was being kissed back. Their tongues clashing in a battle for dominance. One Kurosaki was winning with how he distracted Grimmjow, hands roaming over his body. It was almost odd not to feel sharp claws accompanying the touches and he vaguely wondered if Kurosaki felt similarly.

Kurosaki broke the kiss first, taking a sharp breath and putting his hand on Grimmjow’s chest, undoubtedly feeling the way he was catching his breath too. “I want another fight.” Grimmjow started, interrupted by laughter.

“Of course you do.” Kurosaki teased. One of his hands found the back of Grimmjow’s neck, fingers curling into the blue hair there as he smirked up at him. 

“Whoever wins gets the others ass.” Grimmjow finished, smirking right back as brown eyes flashed gold and Kurosaki sucked in a breath. He could feel the others cock against his, twitching and filling in interest, but there was still hesitation.

“You better not hold back,” He warned. “Or else you’re gonna end up with your face pushed against the rock and your ass up in the air for me.” He purred, grabbing a handful of each tanned asscheek and spreading them. Kurosaki flinched, grabbing onto him. But under the blush was the familiar determination and Grimmjow couldn’t help himself from stealing another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh, I see most m/m pairs as switches to some degree. I think Grimmjow particularly likes being taken control of and dom'd so he probably enjoys losing spars as much as he likes the few times he does manage to push Ichigo down lol 
> 
> So how many times can Grimmjow confess without even realizing it?
> 
> Thanks for all the great comments and kindness for my first fics, ya'll were so good and boosted my confidence a lot. This will not be my last Bleach fic, I'm gonna do a few other fics for other fandoms first, but you guys will be seeing me again haha
> 
> I posted the first chapter of my new fic too :D


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